


In The Grip Of The Lake

by Anonymous



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Blood, Drowning, Nonconsentacles, Other, Oviposition, Tentacle Rape, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Eshevis Tethimar goes swimming and encounters an Armfish.





	In The Grip Of The Lake

**Author's Note:**

> AKA Eshevis, the Sad Eggnant Dach'osmer. I blame Ryan the Sad ~~Eggplant~~ Eggnant Hooker of FFA, the random ship generator of the bridgebot, and the degenerates on chat, especially [farevenasdecidedtouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/farevenasdecidedtouse) for encouraging me. And myself, because _really, brain, why canst not let go, just once._

 

The hunt was successful -- two pheasants, three hares and an accidental fox that was roused, too. In the height of summer its fur was rather thin and short, but Dach'osmer Eshevis Tethimar was... partial to foxes. By then, though, they were soaked in sweat and splattered with blood and gore from head to toe, which, once dried on their skin and clothes, itched and stank. Eshevis ordered that the party stop at the Cursed Lake. His fellows said that lake had a name for a reason and he was a godsdamned idiot if he put as much as a toe into the water, but Eshevis just laughed at their superstitious cowardice and kicked his horse into a quick trot through the early afternoon heat. A refreshing swim was just what he needed.

The lake was indeed breathtakingly beautiful, as if left there straight from a wondertale: almost perfectly round, some two hundred paddle-lengths across, with lush greens throwing cool shadows over its gently sloping shores of small, rounded pebbles, so delightful on the soles of a tired foot. Its water was so clear that one could see the wavering outlines of the strangely shaped rock in the middle - its peak broke the water's surface to provide a place to sit and bask in the sun, its bulk below was full of holes and burrows, a perfect hiding place for the fish.

Except no fish lived in the lake, no birds near its shore.

Eshevis jumped down from the saddle and tore his stained shirt off. He paid the servant, who was not quick enough to kneel and remove his filthy boots, a swift kick, then pushed down breeches and smallclothes at once. Soldiers are not a shy folk; he and his companions have seen each other buck naked on many occasions, and more than just seen on several more. Now, however, no one else moved to shed their clothes along with him.

"What the fuck are you afraid of?" he sneered, already walking towards the water. "Merpeople? You're just a bunch of rabbit-hearted _ladies!"_

The water was in fact delicious, just cold enough to be refreshing. Eshevis waded forward until he stood waist-deep in the calm lake; from under his feet small clouds of fine sand puffed up in a muddy streak, showing his way. There he scrubbed his hands and face to get the dirt off his skin, then turned back to his fellows and laughed.

"Come on in! It is grea...aaaaarrgghh!!

He threw his arms above his head, flailed some, then, with a shriek of terror, tumbled backward and sank like the dead. After some lazy strokes underwater he kicked himself up again to see if the others were panicking already. Sure enough, there was some commotion; two were running up on the shore towards him (not too near to the waterline, though), and the others were shouting useless instructions after them. Eshevis howled with laughter.

 _Come the fuck out already,_ someone yelled. _Do you truly want to die there?_

He ignored them and turned onto his back to float. High sun on his face and chest, cool water on his back -- too good to just leave. He tipped his head back, letting the water flow into his ears and drown out the others' noises. _Cowards._

Then something touched his shoulder.

A water-weed it must have been.

It touched him again -- this time it slid down his back, right into the cleft of his buttocks, like a slimy finger, and was gone in a second.

Eshevis righted himself and felt for the bottom of the lake but his foot found nothing and his head dipped under. He kicked himself upward again with an impatient curse. He must have floated in deeper than he meant to. He was now closer to the rock in the middle than to the shore and around him the water was cloudy with sand.

Sand he had not kicked up.

Eshevis didn't want to acknowledge the flutter of fear that caressed him.

His ears were still full of water; the desperate cries and yells of his comrades came as if from... well, underwater, but their jumping up and down on the shore left no place for misunderstanding. He shook his head but it didn't help. Still forcefully ignoring the feeling of something _wrong,_ he decided that he was sufficiently refreshed now. Time to return home.

Something tickled the toes of his left foot then -- a light, playful touch that ran along his sole, up his ankle and calf, poked the back of his knee and vanished again in the frozen moment of nasty surprise before Eshevis kicked out. His foot caught on nothing.  

_Fuck this._

He threw himself forward to swim away but something grabbed his ankle, something tight, strong yet supple that coiled onto it -- and yanked him back, as a boy would a puppy on a rope. His knee popped painfully and the force of the tug pulled him under the surface. Water surged up his nose, a pair of iron pins stabbing right through his skull; his mouth opened in a startled groan and he kicked out again, but instead of letting go the thing pulled him even deeper and he breathed and swallowed back a mixture of water and spent air escaping from his lungs. He had to belch and cough at the same time, his reflexes forcing him to try to expel water from his burning throat and air from his stomach, but coughing meant breathing and there was only water and more water... He swallowed again and again, writhing, clawing and kicking ineffectively; his stomach clenched and after one more mouthful it spasmed violently to disgorge its contents. He managed to clamp his mouth shut, but his chest and abdomen were burning and his whole body was racked by convulsions of coughing, retching and straining for air.  

Panic lashed through his mind as the burning spread to his limbs. This was happening. He was  _held underwater._ He needed to breathe and he _wasn't able to._ He was going to drown _, here and now._ He was going to _die._ His existence would really end here, in mere minutes of growing agony, now, in the most meaningless and banal way possible, all because of his own stupidity, and he couldn't save himself, and his comrades wouldn't come because they knew, they would let him die here, they would _watch_ him dying, doing nothing...

The thing held him just under the surface -- he could stick his hands out, he could see his own fingers distorted through sandy water and sunlight, grasping handfuls of the air, the life. Grasping...

With his last clear thought he gave up straining upwards and curled back onto himself, reaching for his ankle. His hammering heartbeat was throbbing in his ears, and there was a high-pitched ringing in his ear, louder and louder by the second. He felt for the thing on his ankle -- he couldn't recognize what it was, its texture smooth, slimy, fleshy under his fingers but it was no water-weed for sure -- and tried to pry it off but it was too difficult. His hands, his fingers wouldn't obey his will...

The thing tightened even more and a jolt of crushing pain shot up his leg when it pulled and twisted his ankle again. He jerked, coughed out big bubbles of air -- then forced the heel of his hand into his mouth to stop himself from inhaling water and bit down. His teeth broke the skin but the sting was lost through the roaring of his own pulse in his head. He kicked out feebly once more but his limbs lost their strength and his hand slipped out of his mouth.

He could not determine anymore if he was still holding his breath, inhaling or exhaling. Strangely, somehow it seemed much less important now than a minute earlier. The need, the burning, the panic, all was subsiding, falling away.

_It is happening. Now._

More _things_ touched him, coiled around him, but he hardly felt them anymore. He was floating in water, in darkness, in the last moment of consciousness when his head broke the surface.

His body acted on instinct: his lungs expanded despite the searing pain, he wheezed and heaved and coughed, water, tears, snot and vomit running together on his face. His heart and head still wanted to explode but he was alive, alive and breathing again.

It took several moments until his thinking mind restarted and he realized that he wasn't on dry ground at all: the things held him, yes, there were more of them, thinner ones wrapped around his calves and forearms as ropes, holding his arms pressed together behind his back and his legs wide apart, and there was a thicker one around his waist, supporting his weight. If they pulled him back down again...

He cried out hoarsely and tried to wrench himself free but the things were having none of it. The thick one around his waist squeezed hard enough to wring a cry from him -- barely louder than a meow of a half-drowned cat -- and indeed yanked him under again.

Eshevis screamed bubbles.

The things pushed him up. His lungs filled again and he continued screaming mindlessly, his muscles locked up in a futile, reflexive effort to struggle and the things dunked him again, clearly dissatisfied. Against instinct, pain and newly blossoming panic on the edge of his mind, Eshevis managed to relax somehow and in fact he was rewarded. The things let him up again... but not fully. Eshevis had to bend his head backward, neck muscles straining, to keep his nose and mouth out of the water -- barely. He gulped down the sweet, sweet air in wet, wheezing gasps, then had to cough again as the waves stirred up by his own thrashing ran over his face and into his nose. He was sure that by now he was coughing up blood, but finally he thought he understood.

Hanging helplessly in the hold of the things he could only wait for terrors worse than drowning. Had he become living bait for some predator from the dark tales? Or would the things tear him apart, limb from limb? Would they secrete some fluid acidic enough to slowly melt his skin and flesh from his bones while he is still alive and conscious, or would exposure take him mercifully sooner, come the cool night?

His head dipped low; another wave filled his nose and ran down into the back of his throat but this time he remained limp, breathing slowly, deeply. He did not want to accept being incapacitated, utterly at the mercy of something beyond his imagination, but struggling would only have lead to quicker death, and death was not something he could accept at all as long as there was one way to avoid it.

Something touched the back of his neck; he jerked and immediately held his breath in fear of being pulled under again but instead of that another thing coiled around his neck, thin and smooth and slick, like a snake. It looped around his throat entirely, and as soon as it settled, another one came from behind. Its end slid up his tilted-up chin, across his lips... and up his nose, its tip reaching for the skull cavity, tearing the soft tissues in its way. The pain wrung tears into his eyes again, but he didn't dare to moan, even as the thing withdrew and tried the other nostril. Blood trickled down his throat, hot and metallic after so much cold, thin water.

The thing emerged before his eyes. It was similar to a grayish-green snake with no head, and Eshevis realized what he should have realized sooner: the things holding him were not separate things at all.

They were tentacles of a creature called an Armfish -- pale pink, wriggly things the size of an adult's fist right out of their eggs, but if allowed to live they could grow as big as a fishing boat and strong enough to capsize one. If the sailors' accounts were to be believed, they thrived in the warm southern seas -- how this one ended up here, Eshevis had no idea and didn't want to consider.

The inquisitive tentacle now poked in his left eye; he squeezed it shut and the tentacle withdrew. Next, it slithered into his ear, which twitched again and again with the wet, squelching sounds so close, too close, until the Armfish finally decided this is not the place it looked for either and stopped probing.

Eshevis knew what would come next, and his stomach heaved again.

The tentacle pried his lips apart, pressed his tongue down, probed at the roof of his mouth, dipped into the blood still dripping from his nose, and dived deeper into his throat. Eshevis gagged hard, his whole body convulsing, and the tentacle withdrew quickly, followed by a mouthful of expelled, acidic, half-digested food diluted with water.

Slowly, very slowly, Eshevis tried to turn his head to the side to spit it out but the tentacle on his neck tightened in warning. He swallowed, gagged again, swallowed again, then gasped for air, his throat burning even more. His tears fell into the lake unnoticed.

The Armfish didn't bother to check his other ear. The tentacle slid down onto his shoulder, writhed across his chest, onto his belly, like an obscene parody of a lover's ardor, leaving not a patch of skin untouched. Cold fear pooled in Eshevis' guts as it dipped into his navel and tried to push inward, then continued lower. He couldn't help it; as the tentacle curled itself around his cock and pulled on it, he cried out and tried to close his thighs. The other tentacle on his neck immediately tightened again, and, as a second warning, dipped him under the next wave again.

The tentacle on his cock pulled again, then tried to find its way in at the end. It was not even painful, yet the sense of wrongness made his skin crawl and his thighs tremble. A small whine escaped him -- then, finally, the tentacle gave up, released his cock and slid backward, pressing his stones against his body. His muscles locked up again but couldn't stop the tentacle worming up the cleft of his arse... and poking at his hole.

Eshevis moaned between clenched teeth.

The tentacle pushed in.

He knew he should relax. He was unable to.

The tentacle pushed harder.

Sharp pain shot into his groin; his cry came out as a hoarse gurgle. The tentacle slid in, coiled up and wriggled inside him, then pushed inward some more. The agony of it would have caused him to double over on himself, if not for the tentacles on his waist and neck: they held him upright like a puppet on its strings while he was sobbing, twitching and jerking violently, not even caring for the water sloshing over his face. _Let me die. Let me drown. Please, let me._

Then the tentacle withdrew entirely and left him hanging there, gasping for air, vulnerable, violated, every muscle trembling. Was it over? Then why has the Armfish not released him? Was there something worse yet to come?

For several long moments nothing happened. Then two more tentacles slithered forward, wrapped themselves onto his thighs and in coordination with the others, moved his body, almost gently, into a new position. When they stopped he was kneeling over nothing, thighs forced apart as far as they would go, upper body bowed low, arms still tied at his back, head tipped back, entirely above the water, chin propped up by the tentacle on his neck, arse pushed out, obscenely exposed, even underwater. His nose still bled profusely; the fat drops rolled down over his lips and chin before dropping into the water. From this position he could see the others on the shore. They were still jumping around and shouting. How much time had passed? Surely not as much as it seemed. "Don't fight," someone shrieked. "It will release you once it has finished!"

Had his mouth not been forced shut by his position, Eshevis would have laughed hysterically at that. _Don't fight, what a good advice, dost have any more?_ But then the second part sank in. _Finished what, exactly?_

The next moment he got his answer. Another tentacle (the sixth? the seventh?) slithered down his back, causing his muscles to jump and tremble, then positioned its tip against his hole. It was much thicker than the first one, that was clear from even this obscenely gentle touch, and as much as Eshevis knew it was unavoidable, he was still unable to relax.

The tip of the tentacle pushed in, then stopped. It burned but it was bearable. Eshevis bit his lip and tried to prepare himself, but instead of wriggling in deeper, the tentacle began to pulse and spurt a cold, thick liquid into him.

_Oh, gods, that was it..? Is it finished now?_

He almost cried out again, this time with relief, but the tentacle remained where it was, even after it stopped spurting, and Eshevis very soon felt a peculiar, tingling numbness spreading down his thighs and up his belly. It felt... strangely pleasant, like ice on a fresh burn, but then the tentacle fluttered again, and he realized he was not even able to clench down anymore.

It should have eased the pain, too. It did not.

The Armfish shoved the tentacle into him in one forceful push, and it worked its way ever deeper into his body writhing and pulsing. Eshevis screamed -- from his raw throat a low, raspy noise escaped. He tried to pull away, and the tentacle around his waist tightened in warning. He gasped and sobbed weakly, living fire in his distended guts, long past caring if his comrades saw and heard or not.

Finally, after an eternally long half minute, when Eshevis felt the tentacle would rip him open from navel to arse, it stopped moving inward, and long, shuddering waves began to travel up its length instead, once, twice... and then, unbelievably, the tentacle widened even more where it joined his body.

No - not widened. Something was moving up inside it, now settling against Eshevis' hole, hard and big as a man's fist.

As the egg of an Armfish.

His breath came in small, wheezing gasps of pain and terror. It was impossible. There was no way he could take it. Surely, the body has its limits.

The Armfish pushed.

Eshevis howled without voice.  

Something tore.

The egg slid in.

It rolled up deep inside him and in the first seconds he was sure his guts would burst with it. After that, he was sure it could not happen soon enough.

Then the tentacle withdrew a little, leaving the egg behind, and began pulsing again. Eshevis made a small, mewling sound and tried to duck his head under the water -- maybe he still could drown himself -- but the Armfish held him steadily above the surface while it pushed the second egg inside him. After both eggs were securely seated it withdrew the tentacle from his body, leaving him bleeding and with a horrible feeling of emptiness, but it did not let go of his arms and legs. Instead, it began to push him gently towards the shore, swimming slow enough not to jolt the...

A new, mind-breaking terror cut through the pain clouding Eshevis' mind when he fully realized what happened. There were now two _eggs_ put inside him, out of which two little _Armfish_ would hatch, two living, wriggling creatures inside his body, searching for their way out...

He trembled uncontrollably; when the Armfish finally deposited him kneeling in the shallow water he almost keeled over. He forced himself to crawl on all fours instead of trying to stand, one jerking, mechanical movement after another, unthinking, until he left the water altogether. The weight inside him shifted, pulled on his guts, the eggs rubbing against each other with a noise he could not hear, only, viscerally, _feel._ He whined again weakly, sucked in a breath, pressed his palm onto the bulge in his abdomen to keep it from moving and slowly, very slowly, stood.

There must be a way to get rid of these.

There _must_ be.

The eggs shifted again and their scraping felt like giggling.


End file.
